


Screw Treasure, I got Trauma

by violetsaren_tblue



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: And He Gets One!, Bullying, Eugene and Lance are bros, F/M, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Protective Rapunzel (Disney), Rapunzel learns from her mistakes, Sad Varian (Disney), Sorry Not Sorry, Varian Angst (Disney), Varian Needs a Hug (Disney), Varian getting the apology he deserves, episode rewrite, like girl, you gotta learn that you're feelings aren't the only ones that matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsaren_tblue/pseuds/violetsaren_tblue
Summary: After the events of the Saporian airship and his apology to Rapunzel, Varian is very willing to get a move on with his life. It's too bad that trauma doesn't work that way. His regret and self-loathing rears its ugly head in the worst possible way; i.e. in front of Eugene Fitzherbert. Hopefully, the man can help Varian and maybe learn more about the teen and what happened to himAlso known as a rewrite of the episode Lost Treasure of Herz de Sonne where Varian's trauma is actually addressed and taken care of.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Lance Strongbow & Varian, Rapunzel & Varian (Disney)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 283





	1. Terrible Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This was supposed to be a short one-shot. Unfortunately, I am 26 pages in and not even finished so I guess I'll start posting by chapter. Varian is currently my comfort character so a lot of his behaviors are reminiscent of my own when I have a panic attack or flashbacks. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It started off as a terrible day. 

Usually, on most terrible days, they sneak up on you by making it seem like things are going to be normal at best. So having this day start absolutely awful was a testament to Varian that the rest of the day was only going to get worse. 

Earlier that week he offered his help to Rapunzel in castle repairs. The castle was not his favorite place, but he couldn’t say that he regretted offering help as soon as the princess’s face lit up with gratitude and happiness and all things warm. He woke up early this morning in order to be able to start the trek from Old Corona to the kingdom square. The sun was barely peeking its face above the horizon when he rose from his bed, unrested and uneasy from the usual nightmares doing their rounds. The feeling of chains heavy on his wrists, pinching and twisting the delicate skin until blood was drawn and nausea that accompanied the dreaded amber glow, still lingering in his morning routine. Brush his overgrown hair, wash his face to make him seem less tired and haggard, put on the layers on clothes bought for him, by Rapunzel herself, to help conceal the massive amount of weight he’d lost in that year in prison, and check his dad’s room for his slumbering form-just to make sure he’s there. He was out of his house and on his way before the rest of the sun made its way out of the hilltops. 

He was almost out of the village when the alchemist heard the telltale signs of Ruddiger hissing and chirring mixed with jeering shouts. When Varian went to investigate, he found a group of boys throwing rocks at his raccoon and poor Ruddiger doing his best to avoid getting hit by the pebbles that were growing in size the longer the interaction went on. He ran in immediately to scoop his raccoon in his arms, using his body to shield his friend from remaining rocks pelted his way. After a particularly sharp rock hit his temple, he turned to face the boys he had grown up with. 

“What are you doing? Why are you hurting him?!” 

One of the boys sneered at his offended tone. Varian recognized him as Terrance, one of the sons of his dad’s friends in the village. He appeared to be the ringleader of all of this. 

“Your stupid pest broke into my family’s henhouse last night. Stole one of our prized chickens.” He said this with an air that he didn’t think that he deserved an explanation of why they were  _ stoning _ his furry friend. If Varian already didn’t have reason to be upset, he probably would have ignored the rudeness to avoid the conflict. But he did have a reason to be upset which is why he didn’t walk away. 

“That doesn’t make sense, your hens are as big as he is. Are you sure you didn’t leave the fence gate open and let that fox in again?” 

That seemed to anger Terrance. The idea that he was being dumb, but didn’t want to take responsibility for it, wasn’t improbable in Varian’s mind. But, seeing the taller, stronger boy’s face turn red with fury at the accuracy of this guess made something in Varian’s stomach twist. The other boys backed up from the two, watching for Terrance’s cue to do something. 

“Of course I didn’t! It was your critter that got in and took the chicken! What do you think I am, stupid?” 

At the continued accusation, Varian couldn’t help himself when presented with the opportunity. 

“Well, seeing as raccoons are scavengers and don’t hunt live prey unless they absolutely have too and we literally live in a farming village filled to the brim with food that he doesn’t have to hunt; I’d say yes. Because anyone with something besides straw between their ears knows that, in fact, our scarecrow is looking weary, would you mind taking over his shift?” 

The other boy tackled him, sending Ruddiger flying out of his arms. Big pudgy hands formed into fists and started knocking Varian around. The other boys formed a semi-circle around the two on the dirt. Terrance’s fists hit any place on his upper body he can reach, Varian’s arms held up weakly in defense of his face. The words slinging out of Terrance’s mouth hurt more than the blows. 

“How dare you say that to me? You traitor scum!” 

_ Traitor _

_ Held down-Being held down. Grinning, malicious faces looming over him. Cold stone against his throbbing face, warm with blood and tears.  _

_ That guard. That one guard that wouldn’t leave him alone grinding his foot into his back, twisting his damaged ribs.  _

_ He’s-he’s getting yanked. Where is he going? He’s getting thrown into a box by himself. At least now he’s alone. Alone with those terrible thoughts. _

Terrance’s pummels eventually slowed to a stop when Varian lowered his arms and made no reaction to his physical violence; baby blue eyes clouded over and lips twisted tightly into a scarily neutral expression. He’s vaguely aware of the other boy getting off of him and leaving him aching in the dirt. The sound of their retreating footsteps echoes in Varian’s ears as he slowly starts to curl into himself, drawing his legs up in a fetal position and lying on his side. Parting words from Terrance leave him paralyzed. 

“Wonder how bad your tantrum will be the next time everyone leaves you and your big mouth.” 

Varian doesn’t know how long he lies on the ground with those words bouncing around his skull. Next time. Next time. Next time. 

There won’t be a “next time”, right? He helped Rapunzel, he apologized. She wouldn’t leave him again, right? What about Dad? Varian told him what had happened in the past year and a half, and even though his father was upset with him for a few days after. He said that he wouldn’t give up on him. He said that he’d be there for him. Dad wouldn’t leave, right? Is there anyone else? Is there anyone else that cares? Would he have anyone else if they were to leave? 

Ruddiger came back around sometime after the bullies left, to check on his boy who remained unmoving from the ground. He chirred at Varian to see if he could snap him out of this dissociative state and when it didn’t work he settled for curling up near his boy’s face and started purring. After a few more passing minutes, Varian was able to move again. He shakily got to his hands and knees. 

The dull ache throbbing in his eye and a few places in his ribs combined with the stabbing pain in his temple and nose made Varian groan; less out of pain, having already been used to that, and more out of annoyance. He probably looked like a mess. Hopefully, he’ll be able to avoid Rapunzel long enough to clean up-otherwise he’d have to explain. From experience, Varian knows that is less than fun. 

By the time he’s able to stand on his feet and get walking again, this time with Ruddiger draped around his shoulders, the sun is high in the sky. Great, he’s going to be late on top of everything else. Hopefully, he’ll finish with repairs in time to check on his dad in the afternoon.

\-----------

As much as Varian respected the princess, he wasn’t completely sure the idea of having all of the townsfolk in one room, working in the glaring sun, was a good idea in any situation. Currently, Varian is trying to avoid the citizens that are growing increasingly crabby and irritable. He’s working by himself in a corner, damage to the painted walls done mostly by the rocks but some just of age with the added stress. He’s already filled in the holes and reinforced the walls with his goo bombs as well as sanded down any lumps so it was even with the wall, now all he has to do is paint it over. He hears two citizens start to get into a riff, one with a ridiculous-looking mustache and the other, an older woman that appeared to work at the castle in the cleaning lady uniform. He does his best to filter their voices out and get to painting so he can leave the room and get home in time. His head throbbed and his eye twitched every now and then, much to his chagrin. The argument increased in volume, making the alchemist flinch. 

Just do a couple of layers of paint and you’ll be done, he told himself, feeling the tightness in his chest rise. 

He looked down at the paint can and tools he needed to finish this job. 

Oh, Sun, why didn’t he notice this earlier. 

The base paint was a bright green color, air bubbles floating on the surface in an act of pseudo-innocence. Taunting him, gods, that color was mocking him. 

_ The hand on his shoulder is heavy and nails dig into his bruised, raw skin. He’s stirring the chemical but can’t stir any longer when the hand abruptly yanks his shoulder round. The owner of the hand starts throwing questions at him, voice rising in pitch with impatience.  _

_ “When will the chemical be ready?”  _

_ “We’ve given you plenty of time, buddy.”  _

_ “Unless you get this chemical right, you’ll be back in that cell. You want that?”  _

Varian stumbles back from the wall, and the paint by association. Everything in the room suddenly becomes hyper clear to his senses. The smell of paint toxins burns his nose and his eyes hurt from the sun’s brightness; his headache growing more and more painful. The citizen’s conversation rings in his head loud and clear. 

“I don’t understand why I have to be here, slaving away when I didn’t cause the damage?!” 

“Cause the people who did cause the damage are too dangerous to be out here, fixing it. Well, most of them aren’t out here.” 

Varian’s breath hitched in his throat. His least favorite word made a reappearance in his head as he could feel the burning gazes of the people on his back. His hands start shaking. He had to get out of there. He has to get out. Where can he go? He doesn’t know but he has to leave this room. The room that has the paint the same shade as his Quireneon, with the memories of Andrew’s crushing grip on his shoulder, with the citizens that hate him and won’t stop looking at him like he’s a wild animal posed to attack. So he bolts. 

He runs out of that room like his life depends on it.

He didn’t expect to run into the throne room right as Princess Rapunzel discovered that stupid treasure map.

\-----------

Kierra huffed as yet another group passed her and this mustache guard in their boat. Aren’t boats supposed to be faster than on foot? Then why are so many groups passing them? She groaned and turned to face this incompetent guard. She did nothing to conceal the look of pure frustration on her face.

“You’re rowing too slow! Everyone’s getting ahead of us!” 

He suddenly had the nerve to talk back, despite being able to be pushed around so easily. 

“Well, why don’t you help?” The girl nicknamed Angry grumbled. And replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“My arms are too tiny, duh. What kind of guard are you if you can’t row properly?” Stan looked as if he were about to argue but then the child thief started rifling through his things. He looked on in horror as she started tossing his belongings out and around as if they were useless. If only Pete were here. Pete always respected his personal space and things. He also made Stan feel happy whenever he was around. But no, he was stuck with a feral pre-teen with an anger management problem. Angry pulled out the extra helmet that he packed.

“Why did you pack an extra uniform?” Before he could respond she followed up her own question with an equally rude one. “Where did you even get an extra uniform? I thought all you guys had one and that’s it.” Stan rolled his eyes and explained, still rowing. 

“We get extra linens and gloves but of course we don’t get extra armor and helmets. I brought an extra pair of mine and asked another guard around my size to lend me his helmet and armor. It’s a bit dented but it’ll serve its purpose. Just in case something happens to the one I’m wearing.” 

“I didn’t know you had other guards that you hung out with besides that skinny one you’re always bickering with.” 

“Pete’s not skinny! He’s lean. And I-um. I don’t really talk to anyone as much as Pete but Greyson was more than willing to let me borrow his because he got the day off. He’s usually patrolling the high-security floor but someone else offered their help. Why are you asking?” A shadow passes over the two of them. Stan looks up to find a hot air balloon careening over them. Oh, right. That other criminal child is pretty smart and could probably build something like that in no time. When he turned his attention back to Angry, she had a growing smirk on her face, her head still tilted up at the balloon. 

“I have an idea.” She said in a tone that if she wasn’t a little girl, Stan would have been scared. 

\-----------

The alchemist had to admit that it could be worse. He could have been paired off with one of the guards that threw him out into the blizzard. Or the citizens that had been in the room with him when he had his mini-flashback. Yeah, the blacksmith doesn’t know how to take a hint and stop with the stories and the legends, but Xavier did have a nice voice, and he spoke in that slow, steady tone that made him feel a lot calmer than he was when he started this treasure hunt. Even though it was stressful building an entire hot air balloon by himself while Xavier sat off to the side caught in his story-telling haze; here, in the air, this was nice. 

The wind blowing through his hair and the hum of birds flocking nearby, Varian allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine all of his anxieties and all of his worries, and all of his aches and pains did not exist. Just him, the breeze, and Xavier’s pleasant rumble of a voice. That was until he opened his eyes and saw a figure in the river, clinging to a rock to fight the current. 

Panic surged through him. There weren’t any roads down here, only the river and the thickly wooded forest. From the looks of the glint of the sun shining off the gold helmet and flash of red, it could be one of the guards that set out on the same mission. Who knows how long they’ve been down there?

He told Xavier to bring the balloon down, his worry increasing tenfold at the blacksmith’s gasp of horror when he saw what Varian was looking at. The large man quickly started manipulating the pulleys to bring them to a stop in a nearby bank of grass. Varian, meanwhile, was letting his worry get the best of him, thinking back to if he had seen one of the two guards take this path. If they had been in that water for long, that means any sum of horrible things could’ve happened to the guards he was just getting on decent terms with, or their partners, the younger girls. As the teen stumbled out of the balloon, he called to the figure that was still clinging to the rock with both arms. 

The figure didn’t respond. Not even a turn of the head to the sound of his voice. Oh sun, Varian thought, what if they’re unconscious? He ran over to try and assess the damage. But slowed to a stop right before the river bank. 

That uniform, he-he knew that uniform. 

Recognizing the oddly shaped dent on the shoulder piece of the armor, Varian started taking slow shaky steps backward. His breathing picked up and his mind spiraled. How can he be here? Why is it him of all guards? What if Varian touched him and he turned that sadistic smile on him again? What if this was all a ruse to get Varian back in the cold, grimy cells? What if these people were just taunting him with his freedom to make him believe they were friends again? No, that’s ridiculous. But then why is the guard that starved him-beat him, lying in the river like all kinds of suspicious. They were going to put him back there, weren’t they? They were going to put him back in that high-security hell.

Varian felt like he couldn’t breathe. He heaved and puffed but none of it was going to his lungs nor his brain, keeping him from thinking clearly. Chills racked his bones when the everpresent phantom sensations of shackles and chains became too real, too solid. He continued to back away, now with a renewed paralyzing fear. He stumbled over and over. But it seemed like no matter how far the distance between them, Varian could still clearly see the dent in the armor made by his head slamming into the guard’s shoulder. He could see the fist raised and heard the harsh voice ringing in his ears, screaming at him to  _ be quiet, stop with the crying or I’ll break that pretty face of yours and give you something to cry about.  _ Varian’s hands clambered in front of him, shaking violently, trying to protect his head from the eventual brutal blow. 

A strong hand clamped down on his convulsing shoulder. Varian gasped at the sudden heavy feeling and the sudden terrifying realization. 

He was behind him. Oh no, he was behind him. 

Not even taking a pause, Varian clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see the cruel smirk nor the black eyes nor the dent that his head made when it struck the metal with a sickening crack. And he ran. He tore the hand off his shoulder and ran in the opposite direction. 

Get away. He has to get away. Please, if there’s any mercy in the world, let him be able to outrun the grown man trained to chase criminals. Criminals like him. 

Dangerous criminals like him. 

\-----------

Xavier realized that in hindsight, suddenly making physical contact with someone amid a panic was not a good idea. But watching the young child back up into him, tears running down his face and limbs shaking so heavily that Xavier feared he’d topple over; the older man knew he had to do something. 

Now watching Varian’s retreating figure, he sighed. From the beginning, Xavier noticed the alchemist’s jumpiness, fiddling with his fringe to have it cover the dark purple bruise spreading over his left eye. He noticed the bags under his eyes and the wide variety of nervous tics. So Xavier did what he did best and recounted stories from long ago. In his experience, when he told stories, people tended to let go of their anxieties. For a while, it seemed like it worked, the boy calming considerably. That was until they found the guard uniform in the river. 

Xavier leaned down and picked up the empty helmet, holding it with two hands and glaring at it sternly. This ruse, this decoy just undid all he was trying to do in helping relax the tightly wound child. He looked up at their balloon drifting across the sky, Stan the guard and his partner, the snarky girl, were peeking over the edge of the basket in confusion. Probably wondering why it was just him at the river and why Varian was running like his life depended on it, away from him and the empty guard uniform. 

Those two were in for a mighty lecture later. But for now, all Xavier could do to help is watch Varian disappear into a wooded forest and wish that no further harm comes to him. After all, that poor boy has had enough harm to last him three lifetimes over. 

\-----------

No words could describe how ridiculous Eugene felt. He felt like one of Xavier’s legends, good gods, it was embarrassing. He couldn’t believe that he and Lance had fallen asleep instead of taking advantage of their skills and just nabbing the treasure before anyone else and saving them the trouble of feeling bad when they failed to get it. He looked over at his partner as the two of them leaped from tree to tree. Instead of going the long way ‘round, both Lance and himself agreed to take this shortcut through the small forest near the stream. Lance’s face was beginning to turn red with exertion, or perhaps embarrassment. 

But it felt good to be doing something like this again with him. As much as he wanted to put his past as a thief behind him, Eugene couldn’t help the grin stretching across his face. It felt like he was free, the adrenaline pumping through his limbs and dopamine fueling his brain. Lance seemed to be faring about the same, going off of the devilish smirk stretching across his brother’s face. 

The branch he landed on creaked for a moment and Eugene paused to catch his breath, after seeing Lance stop in a tree in front of him. Unable to help himself, the ex-rogue let out a giddy laugh. 

“Don’t have as much stamina than you used to, huh Lance?” He ribbed playfully. Eugene pointedly ignored the fact that he was leaning against the tree trunk and holding a cramp on his side. Lance didn’t answer, he just continued to stand and breathe heavily with his back turned to Eugene. 

Oh. That was their code. When they had gone on jobs together, the silence was their code that something was wrong. Eugene quieted his breaths and knelt against the bark. Listening intently, he eventually picked up on what Lance was hearing. Footsteps, frantic stumbling against the forest floor, and desperate huffs for air. Someone was running towards them. In front of him, Eugene heard Lance inhale sharply. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“Eugene.” Lance’s deep voice rumbled quietly, an unusual seriousness in his tone. As silently as he could, the brunette leaped from his tree onto his friend’s. From there, he could see what Lance was seeing. 

A figure was running toward them, slight and small. Their arms were held over their head, covering their face, pulling at their hair. It was odd, the way the figure held their hands like they were bound together. As the figure drew closer, Eugene let out a harsh exhale, the blue streak and goggles were unmistakable. Lance’s expression soured and Eugene felt something churn inside of his stomach, something unsettling. What was the kid running from? Was he up to something? The closer Varian got to the two in the tree, the better the thief duo could hear his uneven, desperate breathing. By sun, what was his problem? He made eye contact with Lance and they both nodded. 

The treasure can wait, for now, they have to see what this kid was up to. 

Eugene respected Rapunzel, he loved her. One of his favorite things about her was her ability to see the good in everything, including the teenager currently running in their direction. As much as he wanted to put everything the kid did in the past and move on, he couldn’t help but be suspicious of him. After all, he nearly succeeded in hurting his family. Eugene wanted to make sure that Varian wasn’t up to anything, or at the very least that he wouldn’t try anything, again. The kid was almost right under them; and Eugene could hear his laboring breaths combined with the sound of keening sobs. Eugene winced a little at the echoing cries. Maybe Varian didn’t do anything and Eugene was just being paranoid. But he wasn’t going to risk it with this kid. 

Both he and Lance dropped from their tree before Varian could run past them. Their sudden appearance made the alchemist stumble back in surprise. He couldn’t get past them so he was forced to stand on shaky, unstable legs. His face peaking between his arms held up. Eugene realized from this point that the kid looked terrified, his wide blue eyes darting back and forth between the two of them blocking his exit. His breaths not slowing, and the tears running down his face began to fall in droplets on the leaves decorating the ground. Lance was the first to move, holding one arm out as if to touch him. Varian flinched away from the hand coming toward him, letting a whimper escape and holding his clenched together arms closer to his face.

“Where you headed in such a rush,  _ buddy _ ?” The dark-skinned man said in what should’ve been a calming manner. It had the opposite effect, however. Eugene watched the raw panic pass over the young boy’s face, dropping his hands down, still holding them strangely. When Varian started stumbling backward, Eugene took careful steps forward. The man took in the details of the alchemist’s face. He had a rapidly darkening bruised eye, a gash on his temple near his hairline, and splotches of green and purple along the bridge on his nose. Eugene had noticed the small injuries earlier in the throne room but didn’t think too much of it. But what made the ex-thief pause briefly was the pure, unfiltered terror Varian carried on his features. This kid was genuinely scared of something. Was it them? If the kid was scared of him and Lance…

Eugene swallowed a lump of guilt in his throat. He stopped stepping toward the frightened teen, letting Varian do his best to maximize the distance between them. That was until he tripped over a root that he couldn’t see moving backward. Almost immediately the kid curled in on himself, drawing his legs up and tucking his arms into his chest. His shaking turned into a violent quivering and his sobs rang in the mostly empty forest. 

Lance and Eugene took this opportunity to move closer to him, quietly. Eugene watched the worry etch itself onto Lance’s face when the two of them started to hear the words Varian was choking out between sobs. Witnessing the practiced neutrality fall from his friend’s face and feeling an ice-cold sensation grip his heart, Eugene felt that unsettling churning again. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sor-sor-sorry. I’m sorry.” Over and over until a point where the phrase became a diluted mantra. Suddenly, Eugene felt really bad that he suspected that the boy was up to something. Eugene knelt on the ground, cautious of the mud patches. He held his hands out in a peaceful gesture. 

“Kid. Kid, it’s fine. It’s just us.” He said in the softest voice he could manage. Varian snapped back, forcing out another apology and words that Eugene doesn’t think he could forget anytime soon.

“I’m sorry. P-please don’t hurt me anymore.” 

For a moment, nothing moved. Not a sound was made except for Varian’s increasingly worrying cries. Both men stood frozen in trepidation, staring at the trembling form before them. Then, Lance dragged a hand down his face, the sudden feeling of wanting to punch something overcoming him. He exhaled slowly, not wanting to frighten the kid any further by punching something and making a loud noise. In the meantime, Eugene tried to calculate what to do. He knew how to deal with panic attacks, after all, having grown up with Lance’s anxiety problems and having helped Rapunzel adjust to the large open spaces of the castle. But something about the way that Varian held his hands as if they were  _ chained together,  _ and the way that his eyes were glazed with hysteria and memories; made Eugene pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever dealt with panic attacks this violent before. Eugene took a deep breath through his nose. He, the kid, and Rapunzel were going to need to have a talk after all of this. 

Eugene reached his hands tenderly towards Varian, stopping for a second after Varian winced at the sudden contact, and gently grabbed his gloved hands. Eugene looked at them, considering the power behind the small, fragile bones. Before pulling the hands apart from one another, slowly. Varian gasped as the heavy feeling of the chains and shackles fell away bit by bit. Watching with desperation. his hands drifting apart from each other. He could move his hands. He could move his hands. He heard a voice speaking softly to him but his vision was still wobbly and dark in some places. The voice told him to breathe. 

“Come on, kid. I know you could probably count better than I can. Breathe in for four, hold for four and out for eight.” Varian did his best to listen, working to untie the knot in his esophagus. After being able to slow his breathing, his vision began to clear. There was a tan figure hovering over him, holding his hands. The more he could see, the more Varian felt like crying. The princess’s boyfriend knelt close to him, guiding his breathing. Another figure in the background that seemed vaguely familiar to Varian looked over Eugene’s shoulder. The man that held his hands away from each other took notice of Varian’s new clarity to his surroundings. 

“There you are, kid!” He said brightly and Varian couldn’t remember if anyone had ever sounded so happy to see him. “Remember me?” A kind smile tugged at the older man’s face and Varian wanted nothing more to get away from this kindness. This kindness that he didn’t deserve. After a bit, the teenager understood that Eugene wanted him to respond in some way. He let his heavy head nod a tad before tucking his chin to his chest. Doing anything to avoid the incredibly warm brown eyes boring into him. “Think you can look at me?” It was a simple question but Varian struggled to answer. If he said yes, he might panic again, eye contact was never a strong suit of his. But if he said no, Eugene might realize that he wasn’t worth this compassion and leave him alone. And he did not want to be alone anymore.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Eugene tacked on before Varian could force himself to meet his gaze. “But we should probably do something about your shaking. Can you stand up?” For the first time, Varian felt the tense quivering of his limbs, feeling weak and tightly wound all at once. He carefully shook his head, guilty to put the other man through his troublesome emotions. “That’s okay, right now, how about we just sit here and try to get this under control, huh? 

The sheer patience in his voice made more tears well up in Varian’s eyes. Why was he doing this? He thought that Eugene hated him?  _ I think Hairstripe here has done enough.  _ As the tears fell down his freckled, bruised face in streams, Varian felt his guilt and his panic choke him again. He yanked his hands out of Eugene’s careful, oh-so-gentle grip. He took his moment of freedom to pull at chunks of his hair, trying to forcefully bring himself back to reality with physical pain. But the large warm hands quickly pulled his gloved ones away. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t want to yank that stuff out, trust me. Bald isn’t a good look for everyone.” Soon enough, Varian’s breathing picked up again. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to let you get hurt anymore.” 

At that statement, the dark-haired boy whipped his head up. His big, pleading, tearful eyes meeting the steadfast brown gaze. The sincerity in the man’s face stole Varian’s breath away. Is this real? Was he imagining this? This forgiveness and warmth and comfort that he craved that appeared out of nowhere? Then he watched the eyes leave him and inspect his face with a touch of concern tightening his features. Varian felt his nose running, and he brought his hand out of Eugene’s to wipe it away. Only to see a flash of red on his glove. He stared at it startled, where did the red come from? His nose continued to run, dripping into his mouth, Varian tasted copper and iron. Blood. He was bleeding. 

His vision wobbled again. Blood. Blood. Red blood. Red, thick, warm, sticky blood. Like in that cell, like in his lab, like on his dead mother’s face. Eugene tried to coax him out of his hemophobic haze but his voice and practiced calming techniques were muffled and far away, only certain syllables rang in his ears. Bile burned the back of his throat and his head filled with cotton. Soon enough, he lost consciousness, falling into the man’s safe arms. 

Eugene looked at the boy he held in his arms with care. The blood was still dribbling down his paling face. He seemed hypnotized by the stark contrast of red against ashy skin. A handkerchief wobbled over his shoulder, pressing it to the kid’s face. He looked over and saw Lance’s schooled neutral expression, but sadness gleamed in his dark eyes and his lips pressed tightly together. Seeing the closest thing he had to a brother so torn up over this poor kid and feeling similar sentiments igniting inside of him, made something in Eugene snap. 

How dare someone hurt this kid so much. How dare the kingdom just sit and watch as this kid took the blame for everything that had happened? Eugene may not know the whole story but he also knew that what he did know, he didn’t like. It dawned on him that this might be the first time he was seeing things through the kid’s eyes. A kingdom that hated him for speaking out against the injustice done unto him and his village, lashing out at the people that made him feel like he wasn’t worth their time or their consideration. Being hunted, hated, and villainized before he even did anything remotely considered wrong. How long had this kid been alone to just boil in his anxieties, self-loathing, and betrayal from the people he thought were his friends. Eugene felt tears start to bead at the corners of his eyes. He was one of those people to wrongfully accuse Varian of something that wasn’t his fault. Was it ever only Varian’s fault? All he was trying to do was save the one person left in his life. He turned to Lance with a look of despair on his face. 

“Lance, we...we messed up real bad, didn’t we?” Lance couldn’t speak over the thousands of knots in his throat and his stomach. He meekly nodded, staring at the broken boy in Eugene’s embrace. The man had had a bad feeling about this kid, not wanting to linger on the cocktail of feelings that accompanied considering everything Varian went through. Lance was an empathetic man by nature, something that took years to control so that he could become a good thief. Eugene sighed heavily as Lance looked away, sniffling. “Let’s get him back to the castle and try to fix him up a little. We can wait for Rapunzel there.” 

Eugene lifted the boy into his arms, carrying him with surprising ease. Just how much did this kid weigh if he didn’t even make Eugene at least stumble a bit standing up? 

The two began to make their way back to the kingdom square, Eugene with eyes that only looked ahead, refusing to look down at the bleeding teen in his arms; and Lance with his gaze cemented to the ground. Both men swore to themselves then and there that they were going to figure out what happened in the year and a half they were gone.


	2. The Sinners and the Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rose-tinted haze clears and an apology long overdue is finally given; it's a shame that a year of being the sole place of blame does things to your brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading all of the wonderful and loving comments on something that I was really nervous to share and I just cry. Seriously didn't think people would enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I will take borderline married couple Stan and Pete to my grave. I implement a lot of my personal headcanons, like Dad Friend Eugene and Emotionally Intelligent Lance. Also, this chapter has some more self-projection elements so be warned on those, more implied/reference abuse, mentions of manipulation and victim-blaming, and of course, implied/referenced prisoner brutality.

“And it was so crazy afterward because as soon as someone touched the treasure, the ground started shaking! And then, like, mist started erupting from the walls and all of these really scary noises! The treasure turned out to be super cursed and we got chased around by skeleton spirits for a while before I was able to whip the box closed with my hair, but everything was fine after that! It seemed like my bonding activity worked, I don’t think I’ve ever seen everyone get along so well! You should have been there to see it, really, Eugene.” 

Rapunzel recounted the events of the treasure hunt as the two of them walked down the halls of the castle. When the blonde princess returned to the castle to see her boyfriend waiting for her in front of the doors with a nervous smile on his face. That twitchy expression only came on his face when he had something really difficult to tell her. For someone who relied on a good poker face and lying skills, Eugene seemed to suck at it when it comes to keeping stuff from her. He told her that he needed to talk to her about something and Rapunzel took it upon herself to try and relieve some of his stress by recounting the crazy events of the previous hours. 

Right now, Eugene had that soft look on his face as he listened to her go on and on about the new friendships that were made today. Having grown up being talked over and feeling like what she had to say wasn’t as important, to have Eugene just listen to her without expecting anything in return for his ear, it made her heart flutter. It was why his listening face was one of her favorites. 

“I saw Stan and Pete and the girls talking and eating lunch together, it was so sweet. I think something might have happened with Xavier and Stan and Angry, though. I saw Xavier lecturing them after the whole ‘skeleton doom curse” thing was over. I wonder what he was so upset about?” As the two of them rounded the corner, Eugene slowed to a stop. They were standing in front of his bedroom. But something about the way that Eugene faltered, ran his fingers through his hair nervously, before turning to Rapunzel, told the girl that something was not right. “Is everything okay?” She said, trying to keep her voice light and positive. 

He gave her a slight smile, a simple curve of his lip that pulled at that one dimple on his cheek. At this point, Rapunzel has painted his personage so many times that she’s memorized every detail of his face and made a list of her top 30 traits. That dimple was definitely in the top five. She would definitely be happy spending the rest of her life with that cute dimple. Maybe marriage wasn’t such a horrid idea. 

His uncharacteristically serious voice cut the princess out of her loving thoughts and brought her to where she was. In front of Eugene, in front of a worried, nervous Eugene. Now was not the time to let her mind wander. 

“Honestly Blondie, we should have done this a while ago. But hey, better late than never, right?” He said, trying to bring more humor in his tone at the end, but it fell kind of flat. Rapunzel nodded, encouraging him to continue. “We need to sit down and talk about what happened with Varian.” 

At the mention of his name, Rapunzel’s jaw dropped. 

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I forgot he went with us! He wasn’t there when the box opened! Where is he? Is he okay?” She could not believe that she forgot about him. Again! She seemed to have a habit of completely forgetting about people around her as soon as something happens to her. She feels the rush of guilt before a wave of concern. If he wasn’t in the group, where was he? Rapunzel’s chest began to feel tight at the onslaught of horrible hypotheticals that could’ve befallen their alchemist friend. 

“Hey, Sunshine, deep breaths, ‘kay? Lance and I found him on our way to the treasure thing, and we brought him back here. Breathe with me and maybe lower your voice a little?” Rapunzel did as she was told, being able to take in air easier at the reassurance. Relief flooded her veins. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to forgive herself if he got hurt and she wasn’t there to help. Little did she know… 

“W-why do we need to talk? Is something wrong with Varian?” She said hesitantly. Rapunzel reached for Eugene’s hand, looking up to see a lot of emotions pass through Eugene’s hazel eyes. Something was wrong, yes, but it was something concerning enough that demanded a seriousness that Eugene couldn’t manage most of the time. Humor was his coping mechanism after all; so seeing him drop his teasing, sassy jokes in favor of this solemn attitude was frightening. 

“I mean, yeah. There’s a lot that we need to talk about, between you and me. And Varian.” He said, rubbing his thumb over the top of Rapunzel’s hand, comfortingly. He reached behind him to open the door to his room, leading her by the hand. She followed into the familiar space, taking in the pure smell of Eugene in the room. 

Looking around she spotted Lance sitting upright on one side of the bed, his eyes closed and head leaned against the headboard. It was odd to see the boisterous Lance look so...tired and subdued. The blankets on Eugene’s bed were disturbed by a small lump in the middle. 

“How’s nightmare duty been?” Eugene addressed Lance, walking around the bed frame. Lance heaved a sigh and shook his head slowly, making Rapunzel’s worry skyrocket. Has she ever seen such a dejected expression on Lance’s face? 

Following her boyfriend over to the side of the bed where the lump was, she found Varian devoid of his goggles, gloves, apron, and boots. He was curled up in a ball as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. It was actually kind of cute and Rapunzel couldn’t see why her boyfriend was so concerned. Noticing this, Eugene pushed some of the hair out of his face, and despite him being completely unconscious, Varian flinched at the fingers brushing his forehead. Rapunzel almost gasped at the bruises and cuts on his young, freckled face. 

She looked at Eugene, absolutely horrified. What had happened to their poor friend? She felt tears well up in her eyes at Eugene’s unchanging solemn frown. 

“That’s not all Sunshine.” He says with such sadness that Rapunzel had to restrain herself from throwing her body into his strong, warm arms. He leaned down to gently grab Varian’s curled up fist, attached to his chest. He rolled up the white, buttoned sleeve just a little. 

The tears flowed down her cheeks at the sight of the teen’s wrists. 

\-----------

Varian woke feeling more rested than he has in a very long time. But the relaxed feeling was quickly replaced by fear when he realized that he wasn’t in his own bed. This mattress was much softer, much more expensive than his cot at home-or even the stone slabs in prison. He shot straight up, looking around for anything familiar. Eyes darting around the room, he was obviously in the castle, but where? Where was he? Then there were hands clutching his arms, keeping him in place. The shot of panic, that Varian had come to know like an old friend, seized him as he tried to wiggle out of the hands that grabbed him, that didn’t allow him to move, to run. 

“Varian, kid, it’s just us.” Eugene’s voice was like a muscle relaxant. Varian stopped struggling against the grip on his arms, one that he noted was a lot gentler than he remembered any of the guards holding him. Not being controlled by terror, Varian was finally able to see Eugene sitting next to the bed, hand outstretched. Another person, Lance if Varian remembered through the panicked haze correctly, was the one holding him in place. The large man’s bearded face had an easy smile, pleasant and gentle in ways that the alchemist couldn’t recall ever turned his way. His hands falling away from Varian’s shoulders. “Feeling a bit better than earlier?” 

Oh, right. He had a meltdown in the forest and passed out when his nose started bleeding. Varian’s cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. He nodded a little.

“Y-yeah. Sorry.” The teen moved to push himself up and off of the bed. Much to his surprise, Eugene nudged him back down. He must have made a face because the brunette scoffed out a little chuckle. 

“Yeah, no kid. You look like crap. You’re going to be staying in that bed until those very expensive looking bags under your eyes go away. If I have anything to say about it, you’ll be here for at least a week. Lance and I have all escape routes covered so don’t even think about sneaking away to do your nerd stuff.” The man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. 

Varian pouted a little at Eugene’s assuredness that he could keep the teen in bed. Lance even had the gall to laugh a little at his pouty expression. What happened to these men that Varian thought hated him and why were they suddenly acting like they were his friends? He huffed a little, pulling his legs up to tuck into his chest. He reached to pick at the loose stitching on one of his gloves only to conclude that he didn’t have his gloves anymore. 

No. Oh no. Where are they? He-he needed those! Varian started patting the bedding around him frantically. He can’t be without his gloves, they help him hide from things he didn’t want to think about. If he lost them, he doesn’t know what he’d do. Usually, when he fell asleep with them on, they’d be around here somewhere if they weren’t still on his hands. 

Upon seeing his frenzied searching, Eugene was quick to pull the gloves and his goggles out what seemed like nowhere. 

“Woah, slow down there. I have your stuff right here. I mean, Rapunzel took your apron and vest to get washed but we figured you’d want these things with you.” The ex-thief pressed Varian’s belongings into his trembling hands and Varian felt himself puff out a breath of relief. He shoved his gloves on as quickly as he could. Being a little more careful with the older goggles, Varian fixed them on the top of his head. Even if he wasn’t going to be doing anything that required goggles or gloves anytime soon, he needed the comforting sensation of the objects. Being separated from them only once before, Varian didn’t want to experience that sense of vulnerability without his things ever again. After getting situated, the blue-eyed boy felt sheepish again for causing such a scene over what looked like silly accessories. 

“Thank you.” He murmured. He felt unsure of what else to say to these people that he had no idea how to talk to. Lance clapped a hand on his bony shoulder. 

“No problem, little man! I mean I’d freak out if I didn’t have my earring with me. Seems a bit strange but this guy has been my good luck charm for a long time. Eugene gave me this shiny devil.” The dark-skinned man said jovially, flicking the bit of gold hanging off his ear. What he said made Varian feel a little less stupid. “You wouldn’t believe what this jerk over here told me when he gifted it to me. He told me it was magic and that when I wore it, I’d have no bad luck.” 

Eugene laughed, clutching his stomach at Lance’s dramatic story-telling gestures. An easy sense of comradery settled over the room, leaving Varian reeling from the change in atmosphere.

“Five years! For five years, I believed that nonsense until wise guy over there told me that it was a joke! Well, the joke turned out to be on him ‘cause now it’s my lucky charm. Take that, pretty boy!” Lance stuck his tongue out playfully at the man sitting across from himself and Varian. Eugene returned the gesture, still smiling. Unable to bring himself to participate in their antics, Varian hummed. It should have felt good to be included in such outward displays of trust and friendship, but instead, the prospect that he doesn’t belong here weighed heavily on the alchemist. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at home, away from their careful smiles and jokes? 

Home! 

Varian threw his legs over the bed, trying to push himself up and out of the door as soon as possible. If he wasn’t home then his dad was by himself. And because of that stupid treasure hunt, Varian wasn’t able to do his afternoon check-in, to make sure his father really is here and alright. What hour was it? What if he already missed his nightly check-in? He needed to get home, even if it’s just to check. Logically the teen knew that something bad wasn’t going to threaten his father just because he wasn’t there, but history has proven him wrong over and over. Better safe than sorry is a lesson that Varian learned the hard way. 

His bare feet made contact with the cold tile floor for about three seconds before he was scooped up and placed back into the bed. 

“We literally just told you that wasn’t going to work?” Eugene said, smothering a guffaw at the look on the younger’s face when Lance picked him up and plopped him right where he was before with practiced ease. The surprise melted into a light glare. “Man, you really need to know when to cut your losses, Hairstripe.” 

Varian tensed a little at the nickname, but otherwise did nothing to clear the indignance from his expression. 

“I need to get back home.” He said hoarsely, cursing his voice for not working when he needed it to. “I need to make sure my dad is okay.” He moved to get up again, hesitating when he saw Eugene’s hand hover toward him. Vocalizing the source of his worry made the desperation in his stomach warp, anxiety poking at him with needle-like fingers. 

At least Eugene had the decency to look like he was considering it, which is something he couldn’t say about Lance. The man sitting to his right raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. Eugene brought a hand up to rub his goatee thoughtfully. Unlike his brother, Eugene felt understanding dawn on him. Varian didn’t feel comfortable being separated from his father for extended periods of time-for justifiable reasons, might he add. But the kid honestly looked so beaten down and exhausted that the man couldn’t hold it in good conscience to just let him go without a second thought. Varian needed to talk about what happened; he needed to learn that unlike how the adults have failed him in the past, that they were there for him. The crossroads provided enough of a distraction for Varian to try and bolt. 

“Hey!” The kid managed to get some distance between them before Lance caught him just before the door. That was until the sneaky thing dug one of his fingers into the ex-thief’s side, causing him to crumple at the tickling sensation. Varian almost made it out the door if it weren’t for the Princess Rapunzel standing on the other side. 

Needless to say, she was a little taken aback at the scene. Eugene was just barely out of his chair, with a teary-eyed and giggling Lance on the floor, and Varian standing in front of her, heaving with effort. 

Shaking off the initial surprise, Varian bowed his head a little. The teen debated between pushing past her to run home or just stepping to the side to let her into the room. He didn’t want to come across as rude, not after all that Rapunzel has done for him. But each minute spent here was another minute Varian wasn’t sure that his dad was alive, breathing, and able to move around. He cleared his throat a little, straightening his posture while his eyes were glued solidly to the tile floor. 

“Pardon me, Princess.” His small form curled inward at the title, hoping she would let him through without questions. But this was Rapunzel. So of course there were going to be questions. 

“Hey, Varian! I’m so glad to see you’re awake. You must've been pretty sleepy, huh? You’ve slept all day!” She beamed at him, her smile practically glowing. Rapunzel swept her long braid over her shoulder and ran her fingers through the strands; a nervous habit. She took a step into the doorframe, making Varian automatically take two steps back. “Where were you going? Especially without your boots?” A tad hypocritical from the shoeless princess, but who was he to call her out on that. Tossing a glance behind him, he saw Lance finally get to his feet and Eugene now right behind him. Varian deflated. 

“I-I need to get home, please.” It was a feeble attempt, but it was an attempt nonetheless. Having been in plenty of situations where he was surrounded on all sides and nowhere to run, Varian knew when he was defeated. 

Over the top of his head, Eugene mouthed Quirin’s name to Rapunzel, expecting that she’d understand the boy’s distress. The princess’s mouth formed an o-shape in understanding, looking down at Varian who still refused to meet her eye. She raised her hand in a peaceful gesture, ushering the teenager back to the bed. 

“Well, you can be on your way as soon as your clothes are clean. Eugene and I can walk you home if you’d like!” The princess sat on the bed, to his left. Lance had already taken the right spot, cradling the place on his ribs that Varian tickled him and looking rather put out. Rapunzel swallowed the twinge of guilt at his anxious twitching, having originally come into the room to tell Eugene that Varian’s clothes were dry. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him in this case. Hopefully, she corrected, in her head. 

“Man!” Lance’s high-pitched whine shifted the group’s attention to him. “How did you know I was ticklish?! I thought I kept that secret rather well.” Eugene shook his head with a grin at his brother’s complaining. Varian shrugged in response. 

“You told me.” Almost in sync, the adults titled their heads in confusion. Lance and Varian didn’t hang around each other outside of a group. And the couple couldn’t think of a time that Lance came out and said that he was ticklish in his ribs. Nevermind when Varian was around. “Well, not me exactly.” He revised. 

“When we were getting checked for injuries after what happened with the, um.” Varian’s voice turned meek. “The Saporians... You kept jumping and giggling when Faith was checking for injured ribs.” 

Lance’s jaw dropped. 

“That was like, weeks ago! And you were ten feet away from me and in a conversation with Rapunzel!” The man sounded a combination of skeptical and flabbergasted. “You can’t have possibly noticed that. Nevermind, remembered it.” 

In response, Varian gave another shrug, uncomfortable with the attention on him. It was a bit embarrassing, getting called out on something that others didn’t notice before. He attempted to take it in stride, ignoring how warm his face felt and the many pairs of eyes now staring at him. 

“My brain works a bit differently. It’s like it's constantly taking in information around me without my permission. That paired with my photographic memory allows me to recall things that most other people don’t notice or conclude from.” Taking a deep breath, Varian continued. “For instance, I can tell that Rapunzel tried wearing shoes today. She keeps fiddling with the hem of her dress to cover the calluses on her heels. The placement suggests either ill-fitting shoes, things Rapunzel doesn’t bother with, or wearing shoes for the first time in a long time.” 

The men turned to Rapunzel for confirmation on Varian’s claim. She, herself, looked confounded. 

“I used Feldspar’s roller-skates today.” She gasped more to herself than to anyone else. The shocked silence hung in the air for a few more seconds before Varian piped up again. 

“If you’d like, I made a salve a few years ago to help with blisters and calluses. It helps with the aching and heals it faster.” Rapunzel blinked, realizing that he was addressing her. She felt a smile pull at her cheeks, swooning over the boy’s kind offer. 

“That’s really sweet of you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to try it. Though these ones aren’t nearly as bad as the ones that those ceremony heels gave me. Eugene, you remember those gaudy pink shoes I had to wear for the crowning?” Eugene stared at the two with the most incredulous look on his face. Lance shared similar sentiments by digging his palms into his eyes. 

“We’re just going to sit here and glaze over the fact that this kid has superpowers?!” 

“Hyper-sensitivity sounds like a lame superpower,” Varian grumbled. 

“Ah ah ah, you don’t get an opinion on your obviously super abilities until you stop being a negative nelly.” Eugene shushed him, wagging his finger. “Seriously though, ignoring the clear magic at work in the room? Not on my watch. Why wasn’t this mentioned before?” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, Mr. Hasn’t Shaved in Three Days.” Varian bit back, more than a little irritated that Eugene just referred to something perfectly normal as ‘magical’. Lance burst out laughing, nearly in tears at the kid’s jab. The subject of the tease squawked and slapped a hand over his chin, raising his other hand to point accusingly at the teen. 

“See! Borderline witchcraft!” Eugene shrieked, a combination of actually insulted and playing up his offense for laughs. A warm feeling grew in his chest seeing a reluctant smile on Varian’s face.

“Coming from the man who came back from the dead, and currently in the presence of the living embodiment of a celestial stone; I don’t think noticing things can be considered witchcraft in comparison.” Varian huffed, swinging his legs. It felt nice to sit here and writhe in the amiable atmosphere. But the refreshing feeling faded when Varian remembered that it was a ruse. This conversation, and these cordial smiles, were born out of necessity and not because they actually wanted to be around him. The teen hunched in himself further, bringing his arms into a self-hug. Of course, the others notice him tense, causing the air to turn stale and awkward in a matter of seconds. 

Where was this perception when he actually needed it? Who knows. 

Lance is the one to try to break the silence. He places a hand on Varian’s shoulder, not expecting him to flinch away. When the teen does, Lance senses faint deja-vu. With the ominous feeling in mind, the man clears his throat nervously before continuing. 

“Uh, Varian? You okay? You just got broody all of a sudden.” He asked with a fair amount of concern. An amount of concern that was currently choking Varian with all it had in those few words. He wrestled with his vocal cords for a moment, making only frustrated huffs and grunts when he couldn’t form the words he wanted to say when anxiety was in the way. 

“Why…Why are y-you guys…” Varian continued to struggle for a bit, looking at his gloved fingers. He flexed and unflexed them, finding comfort in the material moving against his skin in such a recognizable sensation. “Why are you guys a-acting like this?” He finally managed to choke out, sighing. Unable to look at the onslaught of concerned faces, Varian buried his face in his hands. 

“Acting like what, kiddo?” Eugene cuts in, giving Lance an uneasy side glance. Varian’s emotional state was like a fortune wheel with 2/3rds of the slots being bad outcomes. And his brother was within blast range. The brunette watches Varian bring his legs up to his chest. He seemed to do that a lot when he was anxious, so Eugene ruled out anger real fast. He only spared a few more seconds to wonder why the kid curled up when Varian spoke again. 

“L-like you care about me?” The strained, painful sound of Varian’s voice vibrated the room’s foundation. What made it worse was the genuineness of his question. This intelligent, oh so smart teen was seriously confused by why the adults were concerned about his well-being. 

“Of course we care about you Varian! We aren’t acting, I swear.” The princess was quick to reassure him, to try and chase away his worries.  _ I promise.  _ Guilt flashed through blue eyes before he squeezed them closed and dug his face into his knees. “You know that we care about you, right?” Rapunzel urged. 

“No, no he doesn’t,” Lance spoke in a low tone. Rapunzel lifted her gaze to meet the dark expression on her friend’s face. Understanding clicking, Eugene blew out a frustrated breath before standing up and walking back and forth. 

“Of course he doesn’t. How could he?” Even Rapunzel was surprised at the bitter hint to his voice. Eugene continued to pace, running his hands through his hair. “I mean, we haven’t been really good at showing it, have we?” He stopped in front of the other two hovering over Varian, who was now looking at him like he had gone mad. Eugene knelt right in front of him, shaking his hands in front of the kid’s face, trying to convey how upset he was. “Have we?”

Shocked to the core was a good way to describe how Varian felt. His muscles twitched endlessly and he couldn’t form words. Not very much unlike the symptoms of electric shock. He searched Eugene’s face for any sign of cruelty. Any telling sign of a trick or a joke or a prank. All he found in return was burning earnestness; brown eyes that were full of genuine concern, genuine care for him. For Varian. For the kid that had almost ruined his life and was nothing but trouble for everyone who knew him and couldn’t do anything right. Tears well up and stream before Varian can stop them. 

“I draw conclusions based on evidence.” He whispers when Eugene’s eyes continue to bore into him, expectantly. The man deflates right in front of him, the ire bleeding out of him in waves. 

“And we haven’t given you any evidence.” Varian looks away when an inexplicable shame fills him. But then Eugene puts his hands, warm and big and calloused, around Varian’s upper arms, trying to get the alchemist to understand the sincerity of what he was about to say. 

“Varian, I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Said boy snaps up so fast, whiplash was a possibility. Many emotions flash through big sky-colored eyes, ranging from confusion to sadness. Eugene wasn’t finished, however. 

“Varian, I am sorry that I assumed that you were trouble. I am sorry that I didn’t check on you when I should have. I’m sorry that I left you by yourself for months to be chased around by guards. I’m sorry that I accused you, hunted you, then left you in the hands of the people who hurt you in the first place. I’m sorry we let you get tossed in prison, in a place where you could be manipulated and abused.” With each apology, Eugene punctuated it with a gentle squeeze. With each apology, Varian’s eyes got wider and wider, bordering on impossibility. “Please accept my apology and know that I will never,  _ ever _ , let it happen again.” 

The heavy silence in the room hung for what seemed like hours before Varian made a choking sound, trying to grapple with his voice to get it to work. The three adults sat in apprehension for his response to Eugene’s apology. Guilt swallowed their conscience’s whole, devouring any lingering resentment for the boy as soon as those words left Eugene’s mouth. As soon as the two others were reminded of what Varian went through and why he lashed out in the first place, there was no room left for animosity. They all had been so willing to let this abandoned, grieving 14-year-old child take the blame for everything that happened when in truth it was a group effort; a group composed of the king, Rapunzel, the guards, and of course, young Varian. But after a year of being told otherwise, Varian thought differently. 

“Why are y-you apologizing to m-me?!” He gaped, needing a moment for continuing. “I was the one who messed up. I alm-almost ruined your lives!” The tremors in his shoulders grew and the tears began to dot his clothes. “I should be the one apologizing again.” 

“No.” 

The harshness of Lance’s voice interrupted Varian’s self-loathing rambles. If Lance was anything, it was passionate. When he was worked up over something, it took a miracle to get him off his soapbox, Eugene knew. It was a good thing that no one was going to try and deescalate Lance’s fervor. 

“Having experience with prisons and full-of-themselves guards, I know what they tell you down there. That no matter what you did or who you were, you are a bad person. They break you down piece by piece-an effort to make you feel worth nothing compared to authority. A scare tactic to discourage future crimes. But Varian, you need to understand that those were lies. Lies told by those jerks in high security.” Lance remembered the single afternoon he spent in Corona prison and how different it was from his time in the prison in Nesdernia. He couldn’t imagine how Varian endured a whole year before the breakout attempt with the Saporian Separatists. “You’ve given a thousand apologies by now, kid. It’s about time people start apologizing to you. Because what happened to you, how people treated you was wrong. How I treated you was wrong, I’m sorry.” 

Varian at this point was sobbing. 

“N-no. This-This is wrong-g. I don’t, I don’t understand. I’m  _ dangerous. _ ” He insists, shaking his head. They have to be lying. Why would they be telling the truth? It was all his fault. That’s what everyone said so why are they saying that it wasn’t now? Why were the people he hurt the most apologizing to him? Eugene releases his grip on his arms just in time for Rapunzel to place her hand on top of Varian’s gloved one. When Varian switches his attention from Lance to the princess, her eyes are swimming with tears. Awesome, the teen thinks, now I can add ‘made the princess cry’ to my list of unforgivable crimes. 

“That’s not true.” Her voice was much softer than Eugene’s and Lance’s. “Sure, things you can do are bad, but I can do bad things too. I..” She pauses as if it’s a struggle to admit something. “I did do bad things. I’ve ignored people’s feelings, acted like mine were more important, and failed to see how others were being affected by my actions. I know this now. You’ve suffered the most from my willful ignorance.”

It was too much. He couldn’t handle Eugene’s apology, unable to cope with Lance’s, and now the Crown Princess of Corona was telling him that she was wrong as well? It was impossible. For his life, he never thought this would happen. And now that it was, he didn’t know what to do. What was he supposed to do? 

“And Varian?” She made sure to look right into those heartbroken eyes before proceeding. “I am so sorry that I did that to you. I’m sorry that I let you get hurt because I was selfish and not ready to face my mistakes. You paid the price when you shouldn’t have and trust me? I’ll do anything I can to make it right.” 

Varian sat frozen. It was such an absurd situation in his mind. Months spent wanting to hear those exact words erased by the months spent having the blame beat into him. Guilt drowned him, left him desperate, and searching for a way to erase his mistakes. It left him turning toward the man in the bed across from him, even though Andrew constantly used his sadness and his shame to manipulate him. He did it because he believed that was the closest thing he was ever going to get to having someone care about him. To have the Princess, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s best friend, tell him that they cared about him not because they needed him to do something for them but because they wanted to right the wrongs done to him. He couldn’t believe it. 

Should he believe it?

\-----------

Eugene watched with increasing worry as the second minute of silence passed after Rapunzel’s heartfelt apology. Rapunzel herself looked like she was wavering between bursting into tears and smothering Varian into one of her infamous bear hugs. Much to the group’s unease, Varian’s face was blank, an emptiness hollowing out what used to be vivacious eyes. 

He hated it. This was not Varian. Varian was bright, talkative, excitable. The kid had the biggest, goofy grin and often had a hard time controlling his volume when he was passionate about something. But most of all, Varian was full of life. In front of him was a shell. 

This Varian was broken down, all of his blinding, happy-go-lucky, brilliance carved out of his brain; leaving behind a self-deprecating, guilt-ridden puppet. This Varian was something to be used rather than respected, a tool rather than a person. 

Was that his, Cass’s, and Rapunzel’s doing? Or was it the prison guards? Or perhaps Andrew and the Saporians? Did it matter who was at fault? 

Unable to control himself any longer, emotions overwhelming him the longer his thought about it, Eugene pulled Varian into his arms. The man holds him like he is the only thing keeping all of Varian’s broken pieces together; tightly, fervently. Eugene hopes that he’s able to pass his feelings of regret and care through his arms and into the kid’s head. 

He feels Lance’s and Rapunzel’s eyes on them, probably watching for the Varian’s reaction. Eugene’s breath hitches in his throat when the alchemist slowly uncurls from his ball. He almost dies of pure relief right then and there when Varian’s small gloved hands clutch the back of his shirt, hugging him back. Instantly after, Rapunzel’s slight form tucks into his side and Lance’s burly arms envelop the three of them.

If they stay like that for longer than technically necessary, no one says anything of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, time to de-escalate, and give the boy some well-deserved happiness.


	3. Melt Me Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirin and Varian finally have the talk they've needed for a long time. Meanwhile, Lance investigates a theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter was rough to write. Thank you to everyone who's been commenting! All of your words mean so so much to me.

\-----------

“I’m telling you! It’s like a conspiracy.” Eugene urged the group to consider. “I mean, look at Blondie, here. Wears a dress, lovely might I add.” He cuts himself off to wink at Rapunzel. “Has that pet frog, and is a princess! It’s like a rite of passage for being royalty nowadays. Get yourself a dress and an animal friend, and boom! You’re a princess.” 

For the last two hours in their journey to Old Corona, Eugene Fitzherbert has been ranting about this theory he has about what it takes to be a princess; and for the past two hours Rapunzel, Lance, and Varian have been unwillingly included in the ‘debate’. The wagon they took with Maximus hitched felt smaller than ever with each ridiculous claim out of the bearded man’s mouth. Lance, usually the one to go along with his brother’s antics, rolled his eyes and groaned; eliciting a giggle out of Rapunzel when Eugene made an offended face. 

“One example does not make a trend. You can’t make claims about a generalized concept without other references. For all you know, Princess Rapunzel is the only princess with a, how’d you put it thirty minutes ago? An animal sidekick?” Varian refuted, propping his head upon his palm and watching the trees go by. 

At the reminder of being called a sidekick, Pascal glared at Eugene again from Rapunzel’s shoulder. He was Rapunzel’s best friend. How dare he demote the chameleon’s friend status to a trope. 

“Easy there, frog.” Eugene dismissed Pascal’s nasty look with the wave of his hand. “I’ll have you know, Goggles, while I don’t like talking about it, I did have a life before Rapunzel. I’ve met plenty o’ princess.” 

“Okay. Say that your ludicrous theory is correct, what discerns a princess from a girl in a skirt with a pet? You may or may not have met princesses but I know village girls with animal friends that do not have royalty status. What’s the difference? Unless you have an answer, it only reproves that correlation is not causation.” The alchemist lifted his head and gestured to emphasize his point. Rapunzel smiled from her spot next to Varian, happy to see him spending time with the three of them without an ounce of the nervousness he had earlier. Next to Eugene, on the far left of the cart, Lance barked a hearty laugh. 

“Yeah! I mean, by that logic, Varian could be a princess. He wears that weird skirt thing and has an ugly trash cat.” Eugene’s raucous laughter and Rapunzel’s smothered giggles drowned out Varian’s indignant protests that it wasn't a dress, it was an apron. When the group’s laughter died down, he stared them down with a petulant look.

“You-you should get matching tiaras!” Eugene wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. One look at the kid’s horrified face sent him into another fit of uncontrollable chuckles, leaning into Lance. Unlike the boys’ reaction, Rapunzel actually appeared excited at the idea. 

“We should! Varian, we could be tiara buddies!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly, unable to hold back her excitement at the prospect of matching jewelry with her friend. Varian let the annoyed look fall from his face, noticing Rapunzel’s genuine thrill. He sighed, knowing getting the overzealous princess to drop it would be impossible. 

“Sorry, but I don’t have the spare funds to buy a tiara, Princess.” He huffed, trying despite himself. Maybe he could get Rapunzel to see the logic, as Eugene and Lance were no help in their humored fog. His hope was dashed when she started shaking him again. 

“I’ll get you one!” Rapunzel could already imagine the one she’d commission from Xavier, similar in structure to her own crown but with sapphires instead of the diamonds. She was scooped out of her creative, lavish thoughts with Varian’s pleading reply.

“No, Princess, please. These clothes you got me already are worth more than my life. I don’t need a tiara.” He said insistently. Despite being the son of the leader of Old Corona, the farming village wasn’t the richest, most well-off, around. So whenever Rapunzel regularly spent insane amounts of coin on gifts for him, it was a bit uncomfortable. Varian is very grateful for the clothes, but he could only imagine the bill for so many pieces in his dreams. He doesn’t know what he’d do if the princess randomly bought something more expensive than his house. However, when Lance (who was actually listening, apparently) let out a dramatic gasp, Varian regretted phrasing it the way he did. 

“You take that back!” Eugene orated, fanning a hand over his chest in a theatrical manner, playing up the humor to coax a chuckle out of the kid. It worked, Varian shook his head while pressing his face into his shoulder, trying to hide the grin pulling at his lips. Rapunzel was much less amused by the attempts to gloss over the self-deprecation but let it slide seeing the boys’ playful laughter. The carriage slowing to a stop interrupts their blithe bubble. 

Varian’s house is as rustic as when Rapunzel first traveled here, seeking answers. Now, she’s returning nearly 2 years later with a found family in tow. All it was missing was a big sister. The princess only allowed herself to dwell on her regretful thoughts of Cassandra for two instances more before purging the thoughts from her brain. She learned a long time ago that Cass’s boundaries are important to her, and pushing them results in disaster. She’d have to wait the lifetime it would take for the stubborn girl to come to her first. Hopefully, she would before she does anything to hurt anyone else.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Rapunzel turns in the direction of the alchemist only to find him already gone and booking it up the stairs of his home. Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected, he had been antsy from the beginning; there was a difference between antsy and jumping out of still moving carts, though. Reflecting her thoughts, she hears Eugene breathe out an exasperated sigh next to her. 

“Good gods, that kid is going to get himself killed one day.” Her beautiful boyfriend drags his hands down his face, line of sight still on the door that Varian just disappeared into. Rapunzel almost laughs. For as much as Eugene likes to come off as aloof and self-absorbed, there were moments like this where his true feelings shine through. She nudged him, resting her head on his shoulder. Once his attention was on her, she let her bright smile shine with love. 

“Not with you looking out for him, he won’t.” Rapunzel feels tension bleed into Eugene’s shoulders. Confused, she turns her head up just in time for him to slap a smile on his face. She’s suspicious for a bit but dismisses it. If something was really bothering Eugene, then he would come to her. Eugene was always the better one about communication. When he clears his throat, Rapunzel removes her head from his shoulder. 

“Do you want to go inside and say hi to Quirin or start heading back to the capital?” He asks with a funny look on his face. Eugene fidgets, rubbing the back of his neck. The blonde considers staying in Old Corona but the urge to begin her own investigation wins out by a landslide. 

“Let’s head back, we can come back later to check on him. Maybe we can invite him to our painting party!” 

“Does Varian like to paint?” Lance pipes up, a tad tired of being the third wheel. Rapunzel nods excitedly. 

“I know he’s good at sketching, maybe he’ll like painting too!” Rapunzel recalls the glance at his journal she got, filled mostly with notes but really detailed sketches in the margins. Maybe if Rapunzel asked nicely, she could get a better look at his artwork. 

“Besides,” Eugene cuts in, waving a hand. “Pretty sure Varian would be excited about getting invited in the first place.” He reaches over and pats Max on the head, telling him to turn around and start heading back. 

The group then makes their way back to the kingdom square, with questions that need to be answered. 

\-----------

Quirin’s heartbeat was a slow, steady thud against Varian’s ear. His arms wrapped around him in a comforting embrace. His dad was shocked to see him home so late and so anxious, flitting around him and asking barely comprehensible questions in his rush. The only thing that seemed to calm him was the enveloping of arms around him and the constant  _ bump, bump, bump _ of his dad’s heart. Varian was calmed further when Ruddiger bounded up and pressed his body against the alchemist’s leg. 

He wondered where the raccoon went, having been a part of the scavenger hunt. Varian was glad that Ruddiger was here and that his dad was safe and he had both of them right here where he could hold them and make sure that nothing happens to them. Quirin hummed a flat note into the top of Varian’s crown. Pulling away, the boy looked over his father, analyzing every feature for signs of injuries or amber. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes out in a whisper, sighing in relief. The farmer grabs his chin in a gentle grip with his callused hands, guiding Varian’s eyes back to his. Tired brown eyes widened slightly. 

“Varian, son….what happened?” He brushed his thumb over the cut on his temple, causing Varian to wince. The alchemist debates telling his father the truth about his tussle with Terrance this morning and being blamed because he was an easy target and a traitor. But he resigns at the last minute, not wanting Quirin to know just how weak he was when he fell into a flashback because of one stupid word; letting himself get beat up because he didn’t care to struggle against the pain anymore. His father has enough to worry about just having him as a son-he doesn’t need any more stress just because his kid’s a coward too. 

“I’m sorry, dad,” Varian says instead, casting his regretful gaze to the floor. He expects Quirin’s hands to slide off of him and his head to shake disappointedly. When a few moments pass and Varian still feels his father’s hands on his shoulder and face, he’s perplexed. He risks a glance at the shame-filled eyes only to find a patient expression. Why was that there? Normally when Varian messed up and didn’t want to explain himself all he’d have to do is apologize and that would clue his father in. But here, Quirin was still waiting, still listening. Why? And as if to further his confusion, his father spoke not the words he was expecting. There was no  _ ‘Not again, Varian’.  _

“Please tell me what happened.” The man waited calmly for his son to speak over his confusion. When blue eyes hovered on him for a sign of anger or disappointment he was so used to _ ,  _ then finding none, Varian began to speak. 

“Um, Terrance left his fence gate open and the fox came back, he tried to blame me and Ruddiger to get out of trouble. I, uh, caught them this morning trying to hurt him. I should have left it alone. I shouldn’t have pushed him to admit that he was wrong or provoked him the way I did.” There was a nervous tremor to his voice when he recounted the events. Before his dad could process the information, Varian tacked another apology to the end. “I’m sorry Dad, I’ll do better next time.” Before he could pull away, Quirin brought him into another hug. 

“I’ll have Mark talk to that boy of his. Terrance’s been shirking his chores since he was young. It’s about time he took responsibility for his delinquency, especially now that it’s getting aggressive when you were protecting your friend.” Quirin squats to pick up Ruddiger and help him onto Varian’s shoulders. The raccoon gives out a happy trill before curling around the teen’s neck and swishing his tail with content, happy to finally be with his boy after a whole day of not seeing him and worrying. But Varian was too busy questioning what was going on to revel in the comfort the animal brought him. 

“You don’t have to, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have talked back.” He insisted, hoping that his dad wouldn’t actually confront them about something that would only eventually get blamed on him again. Quirin shook his head at Varian’s protest. 

“Son, you were fighting back. There’s nothing wrong with defending yourself.” The boy still looked doubtful. “Varian, it’s okay to fight back. I’d be more concerned if you let yourself be pushed around because someone was bigger or stronger.” 

When Varian suddenly looks like he’s going to be sick, Quirin knows he must have said something wrong. But Quirin knew that his son needed to hear this, and if he doesn’t say it now who knows when he’ll get another opportunity. When he came out of the amber the last thing he was expecting was the regret and pain lingering underneath his boy’s skin, an amount the ex-brotherhood member has only witnessed in soldiers after years of battle. His boy, still so small and still so young, bore a weight that Quirin didn’t think was possible for him to bear by himself. But here they were, with Varian trying to add more blame on his shoulders because that was what he was forced to do so many times before and Quirin left stumbling for the right words to say. He’s always stumbling. 

Ruddiger let out a melancholy purr, nuzzling his snout into Varian’s cheek, picking up on the anxiety coming off of him in waves. There was something about the conversation between the two that obviously told of something deeper the both of them were trying to say to each other but could only do it in this obscure code. Neither quite accepting what the other was trying to say, but still insisting on their point being the correct one. Right now, they were at a standstill. 

“It was a cold, windy day when your mother left.” Quirin cuts through the silence with the sharpest words in the softest voice. Varian choked, tensing when Quirin attempted to smile at him, eyes searching his face. His father almost never talked about his mother anymore, ever since she left when he was four and then proclaimed dead two years later. Noting the stunned silence, Quirin continued. 

“We didn’t want you coming outside, you were so sickly back then. I was afraid you’d get sick and not get better.” The father reminisces on pale skin, fevered hazes, and tiny hands clutching his fingers in pain. “But, your mother made the mistake of using an ox to pull her and her lab partner’s cart. You were so excited because you’ve never seen oxen before and there was one right in front of you!” He lets out a little laugh. Even when Varian was younger, Quirin could barely keep up with the excited hurricane that was his little boy. “Ulla let you pet it before she took off.” 

Varian watches the smile on his father’s face turned bitter. The man readjusts the grip on his son’s shoulders, hands even gentler than before. 

“Holding you in my arms...while watching her leave, it felt like I was carrying the sun on my back. Heavy and burning, but something I must carry to protect you.” 

Hearing the break in the voice Varian has known all of his life, more guilt lapped at his insides, closer and closer to drowning him in its pitiful grasp. The alchemist has never heard Quirin sound like this, so close to breaking. He’s heard it many times in other people but never his father; never his steadfast, strong father. 

“Two years past without a single sign of her.” Oh, he was treading even further in dangerous waters. “Then Donella came to tell us that she was no longer with us.” 

Quirin heaved a sigh, fraught with the fading memories. 

“I remember that night when I was putting you to bed. Your face was red with tear tracks and I made a solemn vow that I would do everything in my power to prevent my beautiful boy’s face from ever looking like that again.” Finally, Quirin looks at him again, but Varian would sooner have his gaze directed back at the ground; his eyes hold the same weight Rapunzel’s did. 

“And I failed. Now, you wake up with those marks. You come home with those marks. And you go to bed with those cursed tracks on your face. The one’s I swore you’d never have to experience again.”A hand moves from his arm to his hair, large fingers brushing through the thick, soft strands. “And I failed. I probably will fail again. I knew this when I watched that cart leave and I know this now.” The hand pulls Varian once again into his father’s arms. 

“But I’ll tell you the same thing I told you that night when I put you to bed. I am not going anywhere. I’m here and I’m not leaving you anytime soon. I’m not leaving, Varian. I’m never going to leave you. I love you, I love you so much and I’m not leaving.” Tears fell without the boy’s permission, and his gloved hands clutched Quirin’s fur vest desperately.

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere, Varian.” 

The truth that rang in his words echoed so loud, it could be heard all throughout Old Corona. 

\-----------

The chill of the dungeons wasn’t lost on Lance as he walked down the musty stone hallways of Corona High-Security Cells. Some unidentifiable bug skitters across the floor in front of him, and under normal circumstances, Lance would have backed away until the loathsome thing finished its trek. But feeling impatient and rather angry, the man continued down the line of cells. Something crunches beneath his boot. 

He hears them before he sees them; the sound of their voices sends something boiling in his gut. Lance pushes it down for now. If he wants information, he’ll have to play dumb and uncaring. A role that he’s reluctantly grown into and would have no problem playing if-and only if-he can reign in his temper and not think about the fourteen-year-old kid that spent a year wasting away in these dark, drafty cells. 

Lance comes to a stop, facing the set of cells housing the Saporian Separatists. The left one holding the dark-skinned woman with many braids held together with multi-colored pieces of cloth and the stout older woman with knowing, deep-set eyes while the right held the largest Saporian covered in tattoos and the pompous-looking man in the stovepipe hat. The center-most cell was the one Lance hovered in front of, housing their ever prideful leader, Andrew. 

The man in the cell is smudged with grime and his normally well-kept hair is out of its bun and is hanging around his chiseled face. When his dark eyes catch sight of Lance, they gleam unsettlingly. Andrew leans against the wall, still seated on his slab but now with a feral smirk. The mere sight of it nearly sends Lance into a fit of rage. How could anyone think putting Varian in the same cell as this guy was a good idea?! 

“Gotta say, didn’t think it’d be you waltzing down here with a bone to pick.” Andrew chuckles, moving his hands to rest behind his head. Lance takes note that he’s missing his bracers as well as the string from his chemise. They really do take away anything you could potentially hurt yourself with, he thinks with a hint of relief. “What, was the Princess or Fitzherbert too busy?”

“Aw, I was hoping to get to mess with the skinny wench myself!” The braided woman cuts in with a harsh laugh. Andrew shuts her up with one stern look before the predatory smile melts back onto his face. 

“What’s your business, earrings?” The separatist leader practically demands. There’s a cocky lilt to his voice, as if he’s not in one of the most guarded cells in the prison, in a kingdom that would very well see them hanged before setting them free. Lance settles his nerves before letting his own care-free smile pull at his face. 

“Just had a couple of innocent queries I thought the rats down here might be able to help me with.” He said, taking pleasure in watching hostility harden the Saporians’ faces. “See I never understood why you ‘geniuses’ would align yourselves with some kid. Surely he gave you plenty of trouble so why keep him around?” 

At the mention of his old cellmate, Andrew stood, his smile more dangerous than before. In order to create the illusion that he didn’t really care, Lance began inspecting the nails on one of his hands. But his intense focus on the dirt under his fingernails couldn’t distract from more rage bleeding into his bones when Andrew’s laughter cuts the silence. 

“Oh, so your beef’s about the kid? I’ll admit, didn’t expect anyone to care too much about the traitorous twerp. The fact that you do will only make this more fun, eh earrings?” Lance looks back to the cell to see the Saporian standing right in front of him, hands tucked behind his back and eyes much too analytic. Chills pricked his skin at Andrew’s words, hair rising on end. 

“Can’t anything have a simple answer with you people? There’s always a runaround! Just answer the question, man-bun.” He gripes, trying to cover the anger in his voice with annoyance. He’s already been found out to some degree, but these people don’t know a great amount about him; something he could potentially use in his favor. Just as long as he keeps his body language as neutral as possible. 

“This was our cell.” He says, gesturing inside. “ I’ve heard the guards whisper about the menace of Old Corona and how he crippled the Royal Guard. Could you imagine my surprise when they throw a child that couldn’t hold a sword properly into this cell with me? Cuffed all the way up to his elbows?” Andrew strolls over to his bunk once more, taking a seat. “First few nights it was boring, just watching him stare at that wall, mumbling to himself. Then the guards came to blow off some steam.” 

Lance pocketed one of his hands, curling it up into a fist so tightly, his joints popped. 

“That’s when it got fun, week after week he was escorted by half an army to the interrogation room and was thrown back in here to bleed out on the floor. You know, you lot would be proud of him; he didn’t even cry, refused to scream, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.” He faked a pout, speaking in a derogatory manner. “It was only when they finally unshackled him after six months did he break. So sad, so heart-broken, so betrayed.” 

Lance took an instinctive step back when Andrew’s exaggerated frown turned into a manic grin. 

“So desperate to have someone, anyone, care about him, even help the known terrorists take over Corona. All for the promise of safety and companionship. Of course,” He cut off, pushing his body against the cell bars, hands gripping them lazily. “Every now and then, the whiny brat needed a reminder of what we were fighting for. We’d toss him in here for the night and get him in the morning.” A laugh. “He’d be real cooperative then. Nice and quiet too. An idea for you all, if he ever acts out, all you’d have to do is throw him in here for a night.” 

Before he could stop himself, Lance grabbed Andrew by his shirt collar. He slammed his stupid, smug face up against the metal and held him there, despite the man’s writhing. 

“Listen here, you dribbling shag bag.” Lance seethed through gritted teeth. “Every moment you spend in this cell, I want you to think about what awaits you if you try to escape and come after  _ my friend. _ ” He spits, putting meaning into those last two words. “I’ll hunt you down and take everything you’ve ever cared about. You’ll find out why I had wanted posters all across the seven kingdoms.” 

Lance takes pleasure in the fearful darting of Andrew’s eyes, back and forth across his somber face. He drops the man, letting him crumple to the floor. Turning on his heel, he throws one more menacing look over his shoulder; Andrew scuttles back into his cesspool and Lance marches back up the stairs, exiting High Security. 

Time to find Eugene and update him; then the two of them can have a nice conversation with the Royal Guard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance be going off though. I mean, he was a wanted criminal for a reason so...don't cross him or his friends. (otherwise known as Lance and Varian friendship rights) While writing this one, I got the idea for another story to write...don't know if people would be interested enough to read it though.


	4. Burning Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Awesome bond over almost dying and the conversation on justice doesn't go as Eugene expects. No matter what, Rapunzel will make her kingdom a better place, even if it means casting aside the person she once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to update, I'm sorry. And for those of you who are asking about the last chapter. Yes, the scene with Quirin and Varian was based on two things. "So Big, So Small" from Dear Evan Hansen and a conversation that I had with my mom when she told me that my abusive father had died. I can't listen to that song to this day because it reminds me so much of that conversation. This is a self-projection fic that I have been writing in order to work through issues I didn't know how to address otherwise. I hope it didn't throw off anything or ruined someone's enjoyment of this fic. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

The simple trip to collect ingredients turns difficult faster than Varian could’ve expected. He’d already owned most of the things he needed; one of the perks of being a scientist who works with herbs and likes shiny objects. One of the ends that he needed to acquire had him high in a tree. 

Varian watched the mother bird leave to collect more additions to her nest, neglecting four medium-sized eggs. Carefully, he pulled his body closer to the nest, pausing momentarily to unsnag one of his belt loops when it caught on the bark. With the warm, afternoon light casting dancing shadows on the tree’s leaves, Varian felt more relaxed than he thought possible. He reached into one of his many pockets to pull out a fluorescent pink test tube. He gave it a shake, smiling softly when it glowed. Stretching his arm into the nest, the teen hovered the light over each egg, checking for signs of movement inside the shell. With luck, he found that three out of the four eggs were unfertilized and therefore, not alive. But before he could gently remove them, an undignified shriek almost sent him over the edge of the branch he was precariously perched on. 

“Holy silver pieces! Kid! What are you doing up there?!” 

Eugene stood at the base of the tree, looking strangely terrified at how high up Varian was currently. 

Varian barely managed to suppress a sigh at the man’s sudden appearance and loud voice. He quickly put the three robin’s eggs into the pouch on his belt before climbing back down. Once the alchemist had both boots on the ground, Eugene took him by the shoulders and began his impromptu inspection for injuries. Seeing none on his friend’s exposed skin, he puffed a dramatic breath in relief. 

“Almost gave me a hernia, kid.,” he moaned, plucking a twig from Varian’s disheveled hair. It took every bit of Varian’s training in being polite to elders to not roll his eyes while Eugene was still looking at him like he broke his favorite comb. “What were you doing in the highest tree, in the middle of nowhere?” Finally, Eugene’s hands fell from Varian’s shoulders, relocating them to his hips in a mock of the infamous parently scolding pose. 

“Getting an important component for the memory remedy I’m making.” Varian pats his side pouch before matching Eugene’s posture challengingly. “What are you doing at the base of the highest tree, in the middle of nowhere?” 

Now the brunette looks sheepish, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his head. He laughs nervously and Varian feels bad for making him this uncomfortable. He almost backtracks and apologizes for questioning Eugene, but recognizes that desire comes from the fear of authority beaten into him. So instead, the alchemist waits patiently for Eugene to gather his words. 

“Uh, well, I wanted to check up on you to see if you were doing okay but you weren’t at your house or in your fancy lab, basement thing. So, I may or may not have been looking for you for the past two hours.” Not even Varian’s training could stop him from face-palming at Eugene’s words. The man laughs again, this time a much more natural melody. 

“Why would you waste so much time just looking for me?” Varian groans, picking up his bag and starting to walk towards the end of the trees. He still needed one last additive, and he wasn’t about to let Eugene’s ridiculousness stop him from doing his job. 

“Cause I was worried about you, Goggles. Why else?” The ex-thief falls into step with him, although his words cause Varian to briefly stop in his tracks. When he picked up his pace again, he kept his sky blue eyes on the ground. His leather gloves squeak as he fidgets with the strap of his satchel, also packed with strange plants in vials. 

“Sorry, still getting used to the ‘people caring about me’ thing.” 

He feels Eugene’s worried look drill two big holes into the top of his head. Varian doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better either. Lately, he’s been choking on the abundance of others’ worry after being deprived of it for so long and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. Varian wishes that he functioned properly, that he didn’t have nightmares that made his dad hover over him like he was a young child; that he didn’t have scars that he knew Rapunzel saw from the pity in her eyes; that he didn’t have the panic attacks or flashbacks that started the whole mess with Eugene and Lance in the first place; that he didn’t hate himself so much or feel sorry all the time or find himself having trouble focusing when it is demanded of him. 

Varian was startled out of his musings by a hand ruffling his black locks, dislodging his goggles. His unexpected hiking companion tutted while Varian glared at him, fixing his hair and the strap for his goggles. 

“I could hear you overthinking from over here. Better be careful or your brain will explode from too many stupid thoughts. Goodness knows that’s how Lance lost his brain. Rest in peace, Lance’s common sense.” Despite not believing in unexplainable magic, Varian couldn’t help but feel that Eugene was magical; he managed to make him laugh. “Anyways, where are we headed now?”

“There’s a grove of lavender flowers at the edge of this clearing, it’s the last ingredient I need,” Varian explained, happy for a topic change and to have a question that he can finally answer. Eugene hummed flatly, pressing his hands into his pant pockets. For now, the man is content with the following silence between the two as they enjoy the fragile peace of nature around them. After a while, the purple field comes into view and Varian scuttles ahead of him to start gathering the flowers he needs. 

Eugene watches from a distance away, he lets his eyes slide close. With a deep breath through his nose, the lavender scent helps uncurl the tension built up over the many hours spent worry-warting for someone he knew could take care of themselves. But as someone who took care of himself for years, Eugene knew that things weren’t always as they seemed. Blondie helped catch him when he needed it and he’ll be six feet under sooner than refuse to catch this kid that he’s already let fall so many times before.

A surprised yelp startles him from his thoughts, and Eugene’s first reaction to frenziedly search for the source, moving away from the trees and closer to the flower field. He notes the teenager missing amongst the reeds of purple pollen and the familiar stress pain in his muscles returns in bounds. 

“Varian?!” He digs through the plants, the relaxing smell turning sour in a matter of seconds. He reaches the end of the field to find the cliff face it was perilously balanced on. Because, of course. What was that phrase Xavier taught him? Muchausers’ Law? Murphy’s Law? Well whatever it was, Varian was overdosing on it. His anxiety peaked when there was still no sign of ancient goggles or leather gloves. “Kid?!” He called again. 

“I’m okay! Just give me a second.” The voice is carried by the wind, but it is definitely coming from below him. Knowing better than to tempt fate, Eugene kneeled to stabilize his core. He leaned to peak over the edge. He would tell no one and therefore no one would know, just how much Eugene’s hands, the same hands that have sealed men's’ fates and taken their livelihoods, shook with fear. Flynn Rider would have laughed if he could see the future. 

The kid was pulling himself up off of a side ledge when Eugene finally caught sight of him. Varian, still much too close to falling to his death for Eugene’s comfort, stared at the edge with a peculiar look weighing down his young face. Backing up until his shoulders were glued to the sediment behind him, the alchemist was only a few feet below where Eugene was rapidly gaining gray hairs. A breeze whipped by and rocks crumbled away, falling into the chasm beneath. 

“Give me your hand.” He commanded, pulling off his glove with his teeth and extending his hand. The man did not like the telling glint in Varian’s stare. He looked at the cusp of death as if it had all the answers. “Varian, give me your hand.” 

Similar to waking up from a daze, clarity swam in ocean eyes before the teen gripped his forearm and within seconds the two were on the same level and away from the ledge. As soon as Varian was safe, Eugene made haste to wrap his arms around him. That would have been a really dumb way to die, he couldn’t help but think when feeling the warmth seep into him from the smaller’s adrenaline-heavy body. 

“I’m trapping you in a dozen pillows and never letting you see the light of day again if you nearly fall to your death for the, what is it? Fourth time? Sixth time? How many times have you almost died?!” He finally lets go of Varian to subsequently flop onto the grass. Judging by the hollow thud he hears next to him, Varian followed his example. The lavender flowers above him sway in the wind.

“24 if we count the three months I was on the run as a whole and not every individual time my life was threatened.” Sarcasm warps his voice, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. Eugene couldn’t find anything funny with the teen’s quip. He turns his head to see the kid laying next to him, limbs splayed out and eyes closed. Gods, it is a miracle this kid is still breathing,-still  _ fighting  _ Eugene’s brain is so eager to remind him. A bitter pill lodges itself in his throat at the thought that this bright light beside him could’ve been snuffed out before he got the chance to truly know him in all of his dorky, sassy glory. What’s more was that it reminded him of the conversation he had with Lance, a few days prior. Seems like even with their princess back, Corona’s cruelty is unchanged. 

“And if every individual time contributed to your depressing kill count?” Eugene keeps his voice light like he wasn’t actually concerned about the fact that the kid is ten years younger than him but already almost reaching the number of times people have tried to murder him during his Flynn Rider days. 

“46. Why? Jealous that you don’t get shiny swords stuck in your face anymore? I’m sure with some convincing, the guard would be more than happy.” 

Okay. Eugene was going to sit down and have a very long conversation about appropriate times for self-deprecating humor and the right way to address abusive behavior with this kid. Sick of doing nothing, he gets to his feet. Dusting off his expensive linen, the ex-thief sighs. Varian sits up at the sound of Eugene’s apparent frustration. The curious tilt of his head is enough to make Eugene want to scream. He extends a hand to help his friend to his feet. 

“I’ll get ya your justice Goggles. It’s just a matter of time.” Varian stares at the outstretched appendage, before looking up at Eugene. The boy shakes his head, a solemn frown pulling at his lips. 

“I don’t want justice. Not anymore,” he mutters, taking the hand. Pulled to his feet, Varian doesn’t let go of Eugene’s hand just yet. He holds it between them, flexing his fingers against the man’s tightening grip. “I’m tired of hoping for something that isn’t going to happen. All I want now is to make sure nothing will hurt my friends or family again and right my wrongs. I can only wish that the king will do the same when I’m done with the memory remedy. If not, I’ll see you on the other side of a set of High-Security bars.” The hint of panic in his voice is smothered by an absurd amount of maturity for a sixteen-year-old. 

Eugene just wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, scream at him that Eugene would never let that happen to him and that he’ll do anything to protect him from any more abuse until it breaks through his dense, self-loathing haze. He wants to rant and rail and throw something at the sheer unfairness of it all. But he’s a grown man and not a toddler, so he reigns himself in. 

“You’re a good person.” Varian scoffs at that, pulling his hand away. “I mean it. Most people would rather run away than face the people who’ve threatened them. Not only are you facing him, but you are also fixing the problem that keeps you safe for the sake of others’ happiness. I don’t care how you try to twist it, Goggles. You are a good person.” There’s more he wants to say, but he can’t find the words. Varian also looks like he’s choking back arguments and denials, but does not open his mouth. Instead, a gentle smile spreads, infectious in all of the right ways. 

“Let’s get you home before another near-death experience comes knocking.” Eugene tilts his head in the direction of Old Corona, his voice reduced to a soft hum. Varian chuckles at the words. 

“You think I can convince Rapunzel to make a cake once I reach fifty almost-deaths?” 

“I think we’ll make a cake if you don’t reach fifty by the end of the month, how about that?” 

“Deal.”

\-----------

The way she walks feels unnaturally stiff in her bones, Rapunzel laments as she creeps through the palace walls. Ever since the discovery of cruelty in their ranks, Rapunzel feels this is the only way to tread through such a place; a place that used to represent her dreams come true turned into a living nightmare and prison. Another prison after all she’s done to break away is what life rewards her with but instead of lacy words to fill her woes, it’s lacy dresses, lacy shoes, and lacy walls. 

Whether or not she wants to acknowledge it, this beautiful castle has become another prison not just to her, but to the lives lost to cruelty and injustice at the hands of the Coronan Royal Guard. She didn’t understand completely what her role as a princess was. Rapunzel assumed that she was to keep the peace, keep people happy, keep her kingdom safe; be a good leader, and care about her citizens. 

From her experience in court, however, that was not what she was. In court, among the lords, barons, and kings, Rapunzel was a piece of jewelry. Something pretty and shiny to show off rather than of someone with the right to an opinion. Sure, she was Queen for that one day, when her father was gone and as long as she was supervised by the Royal Adviser in the room. But there were moments like right now that reminded her that she was supposed to be nothing more than something pleasant to look at. The fact that she spent her previous rainy days studying law and government was something that was frowned upon according to her father. Well too bad, she thinks bitterly, because it’s about time to stop smiling and waving and start fixing things. 

“I am saying that I want an investigation of the ranks in the Royal Guard, from what I have heard in my absence, it is more than called for.” She argues for the third time. 

“An investigation will do nothing other than spreading our ranks thinner than they already are. Must we descend into an investigation at every lie told by commoners and criminals?” Nigel, having arrived in the Meeting Room shortly after Rapunzel came home and started organizing the aforementioned investigation, asked haughtily. The princess bit her tongue to stop the angry rebuttal forcing its way out. How dare he accuse her friends of lying when she’s seen it herself?! It’s almost as if he assumes that she be so incompetent as to not connect the dots or so apathetic to sit back and watch her citizens be forced into silence. 

“Fine. If you don’t trust our people, the families we’re responsible for, how about the statistics.” Rapunzel’s voice quivers, rage bleeding into her consonants. She swipes a pile of papers from the table and clears her throat condescendingly. Nigel deserved a little grief and she’s more than willing to be the one to give it to him. 

“Corona’s arrest rate is 200 percent higher than any other kingdom in our region.” She slams a piece of paper on the table. “97 percent of petty criminals arrested in Corona have skewed sentences, condemned to either a lifetime in jail or death.” The table shakes after another paper is pounded onto its surface. “100 percent of people arrested are from the common or working-class despite 54 percent of criminal activity coming from wealthier classes.” Slam. “The criminals in our system are denied medical treatment despite 88 percent of them being injured or sickly at this very moment.” Slam. 

This last statistic she had collected made her pause, tears briefly shining in her eyes before she continues, voice weaker than before but the words much more venomous. 

“50 percent of our prisoners are below the age of eighteen. They are not even fully grown and yet they are forced to accept that their lives are over because of a piece of stolen bread.” This paper she lets fall to the floor. She fixes a steely glare on Nigel, her stomach swirling with nausea. His thin face is pulled inwards, scowling with disgust and probably thinking of ways to deny her, despite Rapunzel being his superior. He didn’t get the chance. This is her time to talk and his time to be something pleasant and quiet.

“Nigel, either carry through the investigation or be processed for willful neglect and prisoner brutality.” The words turn Nigel’s red, indignant face to a nice shade of white. Seeing that the Royal Adviser now has nothing to say, Rapunzel starts to collect her documents. More tears welled up in her eyes. If it was a year ago, she would have done nothing; said nothing, in fear of being wrong or upsetting someone. But enough of her people have been hurt by her standing off to the sidelines. 

She kneels to pick up the last piece of paper from the ground, her posture perfectly straight but her fingers were shaking. How many lives were doomed because she didn’t want to risk her father’s ire? How many families have been torn apart because of an injustice that she didn’t want to acknowledge? Taking a steadying breath, she stands upright again. Nigel has composed himself a little more but still couldn’t find his voice by the time Rapunzel makes to leave the room. 

“It’s time for Corona to see the light.” She murmurs, quiet but firm. Closing the door behind her, the new Queen of Corona marches back down the overly long hallways. 

The nervous energy running laps in her veins causes Rapunzel to almost break down right then and there. Stress was something that she knew she didn’t deal with well; the second reason why she felt unfit to be royalty. But, if no one was going to do something about her kingdom's suffering, then Rapunzel will step up to the metaphorical plate. 

Plus she has the best de-stressing system in the world, she thinks. A grateful smile spreads across her face when she hears Eugene’s boisterous laughter echoing from somewhere outside. Her Eugene-radar pinpoints his exact location, her mom’s lily garden, his favorite hideaway in the castle. Without hesitation, she makes her way through stuffy marble halls and into clear skies and sunshine. When Rapunzel’s eyes finally find him, he’s smiling the biggest, brightest smile and she feels twenty pounds of pure stress already waste away. 

He’s sitting with Lance and to her surprise, Varian, under a pavilion. Judging by the spark in his eyes and his excited hand gesturing, he’s telling a story. Lance is fiddling with a string, keeping his fingers busy so he’s able to focus better, a gentle grin growing on his features. Varian is engrossed by her boyfriend’s story, propping up his head with both hands and eyes shining with child-like innocence. 

The idea that all of these wonderful people in her life have been hurt by the Coronan system washes away the doubts she felt in the room with Nigel. She’s reminded that she’s not just doing this for the betterment of the kingdom but for the justice that the found family deserved. 

Rapunzel doesn’t feel bad interrupting their storytime because she needs to give them all the biggest hug in the world. 

“Blondie! I was wondering where you were!” Eugene beams at her, standing from his chair to plant a kiss on her eager lips. When they part, Rapunzel notices Varian having turned away from their display of affection, red-faced, and she laughs. Her boyfriend pulls her to the table by her hand. “I was just telling them the story of the Demanitus Maze.” 

“You mean the story where every bad thing could’ve been avoided if you listened to Demanitus?” Rapunzel smirks cheekily, taking a seat. 

“No, the one where we were screwed over by a monkey. Come on, Sunshine, keep up.” Eugene replies right away, not wanting to acknowledge Rapunzel’s comment. It’s such a shame that he’s outnumbered. 

“Right, because not wanting to give up a coin to a fountain even though you are a prince consort and have plenty of money with your supplies was definitely Demanitus’s fault,” Varian says. His tone was playful and full of mirth, something that did not go unnoticed by Rapunzel. 

“Where’s a monkey supposed to keep a money bag anyway? I don’t think pockets are a built-in design feature they have.” Lance joins in, turning the string into a teacup and plate, side-eyeing the now pouting Eugene. 

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it, okay.” He gripes childishly, crossing his arms and then slumping in his seat. Just looking at him, Rapunzel feels an overbearing wave of love wash over her and she can’t restrain herself any further. She throws herself on Eugene, squeezing him tightly and basking in the heat of his skin combined with the reliable beating of his heart. Almost bursting out laughing when he whispers the question of if she is okay, she feels happy. Over his shoulder, the royal observes Lance and Varian patiently waiting for their expression of undying love to end. She beckons them forward with her hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” Rapunzel giggles. “Get in on some of this mushy goodness.” Lance wraps his great arms around the two of them without a sign of hesitance, his brilliant grin glowing bright enough to illuminate the darkest days. However, Varian takes in the scene with reluctance. The offer to be enveloped in a warm, safe, and loving embrace seems too good to be true, so the boy doesn’t rise to join them. Realizing that the stubborn alchemist isn’t going to move of his own accord, Lance groans dramatically. Removing one arm, the large man scoops up Varian’s body easily, squishing him into Eugene’s side and then placing his hand back around the three of them. The most beautiful smile melts onto Varian’s freckled face and only one thought is left present in Rapunzel’s mind. 

She loves her boys and she’s never going to let anything bad happen to them ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats! You made it to the end of this fic! I hope you liked it. Please tell me what you thought in the comments, I read those for some much-needed serotonin.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Sorry.


End file.
